


CCLI. Prisoner, slave to the disguise

by Ex-Genesis (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, F/F, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ex-Genesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How female!Dean deals with her promise to kill female!Sam if the demon inside takes hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CCLI. Prisoner, slave to the disguise

She'll save Sam. Obedience, her promise, will make sure of that. Cause there's no way in hell she'll be killing her sister.

Dean hopes her dad knows that, where ever he is. Where else _could_ he be?

He must know. He wouldn't expect anything less of Dean, anything less than moving mountains to protect Sammy.

 

If only Sam could appreciate that. Dean doesn't plan on ever telling her though, so Sam'll probably never know. Never get the chance to say 'thank you'. It's all for the better.  
  
When Sam gets out of the car, she gives Dean a once-over, to which Dean offers a slight up-turn of her lips. Sam closes the door and heads to check in at the office. Dean clenches her jaw before rolling passed the office, and into a corner space, safer for her baby.  
  
Later that night, Sam closes her laptop and without looking up from the table - _coward_ \- asks, "You sure we shouldn't just move onto the next town, Dean?"  
  
"Now why would we do that, Sammy?" Dean asks gruffly. Reluctant to respond at all. Sam's been up her ass all day about Dean making excuses to fight something. Something that isn't there. But it is, she can feel it.  
  
Sam gets the courage to look, with raised, suggestive eyebrows, at Dean. She can't help but return the uncomfortable expression. "Look, there's something here and we're going to deal with it. Stop nagging me, or I swear to god, Sam..."  
  
"Dean..." That ignorant, plaintive tone.  
  
Dean just slams her feet on the floor, off the bed like she's about to walk out of their room and Sam lifts her hands in surrender. "Fine. Whatever you want," she says.  
  
"Damn straight," Dean mutters, punctuating it by slamming off the lights, the switch beside her bed. She kicks off her shoes, an immediate release of pressure, and closes her eyes until Sam finally slumps off to her own bed. Dean makes a whole list of reasons why she knows they're needed here, don't matter if she never tells Sam, it helps her sleep better when her eyelids are finally too heavy to hold open.  
  
  
  
Not that Dean really expects it, but come to find out, there is a case here, and _Sam_ doesn't apologize. They fight off the stupid, twisted bitch, but she put up one hell of a front. Sam gave her a _look_ when they found the ex-roommate dead. Dean's sure she's right. Vengeful spirits tend to generalize and because one girl when behind her back, basically all girls are evil. Except for her, _of course_. They think half the fight was gender-based alone. The rest, obviously, was because they were trying to send her back to her grave.  
  
As they shovel the dirt back over her coffin, they're both panting. Sam uses her forearm to wipe her forehead and smears dirt across the whole of it. Dean just barely catches sight of it mid-dig and does a double-take before leaning back to let out a good laugh, forearm digging into the handle of her shovel.  
  
Sam's eyebrows furrow in confusion, lips lifting into a slight smile. "What?"  
  
"'What?' Nothin'." Sam purses her lips at her sister's response. Obviously she's being mocked, and there's no way to tell why because Dean just makes fun of anything  
  
"You're a dick."  
  
"Yeah..." says Dean proudly. Then she finishes burying the un-dead and they head back to the motel. Just in hopes of seeing the smear a little longer, Dean bolts inside, locking the bathroom door behind her.  
  
"Damn it, Dean!" Sam shouts after her, giving the door a good whack before slumping down into her chair at the table. Dean snickers throughout her shower until she recalls the words she'd said earlier. _What's dead should stay dead_.  
  
For a moment, she lays her head against the tile and watches the water run off the ends of her hair. She closes her eyes and promises her dad Sam will _not_ die. Shutting the water off, she wraps a towel around her and walks out. "All yours," she says quietly.  
  
The look of annoyance she had prepared for Dean turns into surprise, then concern, as she stands. "Dean?" Her sister doesn't look up. "You okay?" Dean takes a moment, but eventually nods her head shortly. Sam moves slowly into the bathroom and takes an especially quick tour of the shower just in case Dean changes her mind about needing to talk.  
  
As Sam expected, Dean's pretending to be asleep when she comes out in her pj's, hair and teeth brushed. Sighing, Sam climbs under the covers and tries not to listen to every un-even breath Dean takes. Because every breath she hears, the more she wishes she knew how to help Dean. Dad's death was so hard on her, Sam can see right through her sister's tough-girl act. But every time she breaches the subject, Dean lashes out. They've left each other too many times in the past, for Sam not to worry about Dean taking off some day without her.  
  
No. Sam takes it back, eyes wide open now. _Sam_ 's left too many times. Always pushed, but _she_ 's the one who's left. Maybe she's just wishing Dean would leave once, just once. Like it would justify... She's so damn selfish sometimes. Rolling her shoulders back, Sam suddenly feels the tension within her muscles.  
  
Dean wouldn't leave her, which means that the longer it takes to help Dean heal, the lazier it makes Sam. Throwing the covers back, Sam takes in a deep breath.  
  
Stepping over to Dean's bed, Sam looks at her sister a second before swatting Dean's arm with the beck of her hand. It really is obvious when Dean is faking it. "Dean..." Sam says, exasperated. Then she shakes Dean with both hands. "Come on." Dean fakes waking up. _Asshole_ , Sam thinks, but a corner of her lips turn up.  
  
"Oh, what's up, Sammy?" She's even giving a fake smile along with her fake everything else.  
  
"Can you sit up for a second? We need to talk." Sam sits back, on her bed, facing Dean.  
  
"Ooo, a sitting-up conversation. I'm not sure I could handle one of those right now, Sam." Though it's her usual level of sarcasm behind each word, Sam think's that maybe Dean's telling the truth. Which is exactly _why_ it has to happen now.  
  
When Sam answers with silence, Dean sits up, tossing her legs half-way out the covers in order to face Sam, doing her best to look put-upon.  
  
"Um..." Sam says, reaching the point in which she always, miraculously, ends up astonished at how difficult it is to say what she needs to say.


End file.
